Season's Greetings
by Tina Marina
Summary: Young William Turner III and his mother Elizabeth Turner share the Christmas spirit--and tales of their closest pirate friends! Inspired by the Broken Compass' ongoing drabble challenge. Prompt: "Naughty or Nice."


A/N: Last fanfic of 2008! Another drabble/one shot challenge from the Broken Compass.

**I owe Belphegor for this one—her excellent art inspired the whole story. Dedicated to you, my dear! ;)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own PotC or any of these characters.**

"Aye! Avast!" The giggling voices of small boys playing pirates reached Elizabeth's ears and she smiled, fond memories of her own childhood echoing as the sounds of her son and his few friends play fought.

"I want to be the pirate!" shouted William's friend Michael, protesting with a whine in his voice. "Why do you always get to do it?"

"Because _you_ never do the pirating right!" William countered. "It has to be like this!" He staggered and grinned, bearing a definite resemblance to a certain pirate.

Elizabeth turned her head to the bickering boys. "William," she warned.

"But it's true, Mum!" William sniffed, rubbing his nose with a grubby hand. Elizabeth paused, caught in how much he resembled his father. She hadn't even known Will when he was five years old, but there was something about their son that was his; the way he held his head, and how his eyes widened in earnest, leaving her powerless to argue.

Her face softened, but her voice did not. "It's getting late as it is. Come on inside."

William scowled, but he left the stick he used as a sword in the dirt, giving Michael and the other boys a sad look over his shoulder.

Elizabeth gave William a squeeze. "You know, Christmas is coming up," she said. "You have to be sure and be nice instead of naughty like a pirate."

William's face convulsed in horror. "_Nice?_"

Elizabeth laughed. "Yes, nice." She could remember her father telling her the same thing, albeit more indirectly. He really had doted on her, as much as he could manage.

William thought. "Were you nice around Christmas?"

"I always try to be nice." Elizabeth gave her son a playful grin. "Rarely did I succeed, though. I thought of pirates far too often." She tickled his sides, sending him into fits of laughter.

As Elizabeth tucked William into bed, he grabbed her hand. "How about Mister Jack Sparrow?" he asked. "Was he nice?"

Elizabeth leaned close, whispering. "_Captain_ Jack Sparrow."

"Captain Mister Jack Sparrow." His tongue tripped over the name.

Her eyes danced. "He tries to be naughty, but I once caught him being nice. A few times, actually."

William gasped. "No."

Elizabeth nodded. "I couldn't believe it at first either."

As the days became shorter, though no less beautiful, Christmas approached, and William's world was turned on its ear.

"Mum!" He exploded in front of her. "What of Uncle Gibby?"

"Nice, long as he's had a rum or two first," Elizabeth reasoned. She continued cooking, watching William's mind churn out of the corner of her eye.

"And Uncle Pintel?" Climbing onto an unsteady old kitchen chair, William considered his mother stumped, biting his lip.

"Nicer than he looks." Elizabeth couldn't help but think of the sad way the old pirate had bade her goodbye.

"Ragetti?" William's voice sounded doubtful of itself.

She turned to him, one eyebrow raised. "Even _you_ know he's nice."

William's face fell. "That's true."

Elizabeth pinched his cheek. "Keep thinking, darling. Can't fool me!"

Christmas Eve, William tugged on his mother's sleeve. "I've got it figured, Mummy."

Elizabeth was at a loss. "Pardon?"

With as much gravity as a boy of five could manage, he burst out with it. "Barbossa."

"Barbossa what? He shan't be visiting us after all, he sent a letter; I'm sorry, William." She gave him a comforting pat on the back.

"No!" He shrugged off her touch. "Naughty or not?"

There was a slight pause; then Elizabeth grabbed her boy around the middle, feeling him squirm in her embrace.

"The most irrevocably, ostensibly, undeniably, naughtiest pirate in the entire world," she murmured into his ear.

His face lit up, but soon became serious again. His eyes went deep into his mother's. "What about Da?"

Elizabeth's face mirrored his. It was the first time she saw how much of herself was in the boy, just as much as there was of Will.

"Your father," she began softly, "Is neither nice nor naughty. He is noble, and, and loving, and—"

She pressed her face into William's shirt, hiding her eyes, which she didn't trust to stay dry.

"Your father," she said, "Was just like you are now."

The boy was satisfied with the answer, and held Elizabeth's head to his chest, in the unspoken bond between mother and child, but he didn't need to. She was smiling.

"Happy Christmas, William."


End file.
